


A Little Overwhelmed

by Star_Crow



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 09:11:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11033139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star_Crow/pseuds/Star_Crow
Summary: Alec was the eldest at twenty. He was born at the height of July, two years after his parents had first married, right there in Orynth. By all accounts, the festivities lasted for weeks.





	A Little Overwhelmed

“Alec, you need to get up. Right now.”

Alexander Rhoe Havilliard-Galathynius, Crown Prince of Adarlan and Terrasen, firstborn son to the wyvern and the stag, was blinded in sunlight as his father’s Hand threw back the drapes on his bed. Alec didn’t remember how he’d gotten back to his rooms last night. Actually, he didn’t remember much at all. It must have been one hell of a party. Then again, weren’t all of the royal parties to a similar effect? Atleast the other person in the room was fully clothed and definitely not the kind of person Alec would pursue.

“Westfall, I feel like my head has been kicked by a horse multiple times so please, get the hell away if you don’t want to be burned alive.” the teenager hissed, dragging the covers up to shield his eyes. “You could show a little more respect to your future king.”

“Shut up, Alec.” Chaol Westfall just laughed at the princeling. “I’m doubting your ability to stand up straight, let alone land a fireball on me.”

Chaol had served as the Crown Prince’s chaperone since he had moved out of the nursery. The role was meant to be strictly formal, but the relationship between the two was anything but. Alec was the young son of Chaol’s best friend, nothing more, and that was exactly the way he treated him.

The Hand pushed a steaming china cup towards his charge as he sat up against the headboard. The intricate carvings on the wood dug into his back, pain sharpening the prince’s senses. Alec wrinkled his nose at the pungent smell but he knew what it was in an instant. A hangover remedy. He nodded his thanks.

“What happened last night?” he shuddered as the vile liquid went down his throat.

Chaol sat down on the bed beside him. “My guess is as good as yours. I’m sure your mother will be happy to tell us.”

Alec gave him a suspicious eye. “You’re looking pretty lively for a man who supposedly can’t recall a wild night.”

“I can take my drink better than you, kid.”

The younger man glared, sliding out of bed and stumbling to his feet. He heard a snort from behind him. “You look about as steady as a newborn foal.”

“Your comments are always much appreciated, Lord Westfall. That reminds me,” the prince paused, straightening up a bit. “I’m supposed to be taking Izzy out for a ride today.”

House Havilliard-Galathynius had four boys. Alec was the eldest at twenty. He was born at the height of July, two years after his parents had first married, right there in Orynth. By all accounts, the festivities lasted for weeks. Edric and Artemis came seven summers later. Twins were a great blessing but not one that the busy king and queen had been specifically wanting or expecting. That much was obvious as it had taken them seven more years to have another child, Emmett.

Alec loved all his brothers. Dorian and Aelin had simply raised him that way, in a close family environment. He did, however, have a special relationship with his sister. Isabel was the second child, born just before Alec’s fourth birthday. He’d adored her since then. Her kind, gentle heart was a great temper for his wild one. When he thought of her, Alec almost regretted that he was the firstborn. Isabel would have made a wonderful queen. Perhaps she would still be one, just in another kingdom. Far away from him. He didn’t want to think about that yet.

“You want to ride? Good luck with that.”

The prince found that hard to contradict when he made it to the mirror. His platinum blond hair was defying gravity, sticking up in every direction. Alec was the colour of porcelain normally but now, he was so white he looked sickly. His pale blue eyes were dilated and bloodshot. The red dinner jacket he’d buttoned on was stained with wine and god knows what else and his black trousers were split on the legs. His boots were thrown across the floor, the polish chipped off and the leather torn in places. He had a lot of cleaning up to do before he presented himself infront of the court for breakfast. Alec had nothing to fear from his father. Dorian Havilliard-Galathynius was probably just as hungover as his son, from what little he remembered. His brothers and sister wouldn’t care either. Actually, they’d probably think it was hilarious. 

His mother, however, Aelin of the Wildfire, would probably not be too impressed.

She hadn’t been drinking last night. To everyone’s surprise, including herself, Aelin had fallen pregnant again. Alec had thought there’d be no more after Emmett. Raising the twins, and then Emmett, whilst trying to run an empire had nearly driven his parents into the ground. This new baby would definitely be the last until Alec found a partner. The queen wasn’t getting any younger and the risk was pushing higher than either Dorian or Aelin were willing to tolerate. Alec had no doubt that his mother would see this pregnancy through without trouble, she was the strongest woman he knew, but that would be it. They hadn’t done bad. Six kids, happy and healthy, was quite the achievement.

To think that Alec had gotten completely inebriated at a celebration for his unborn sibling was quite scandalous. When this had all faded into just another escapade, Alec would probably laugh about it with everyone else. Right now, the prince was mortified. What had he done? What had he said? A huge part of him didn’t want to know.

Alec dunked his head in a basin of ice cold water that a servant must have brought in. The water ran down from his hair in rivulets, soaking his chest. It didn’t seem to be doing the crown prince much good. He still felt like he could collapse at any moment.  
“Want to go for a run?” Alec turned to Chaol, drying his hair with a hand towel.

“The only times that our runs used to be fun was when I actually stood a chance at matching you squarely.” the Hand complained. “What with your Fae body and your conspicuous ability to shift into a wolf, I can’t keep up.”

Magic had always been a bit of an enigma but Alec was the epitome of its mystery. His mother was a master of fire. His father wielded raw magic, essentially anything he wanted. It was presumed he’d inherit one or the other and that was true to some extent. Alec could use both areas of magic but he was far better at controlling the flame. It came to him most naturally. However, it was his shifting that was the surprise. Aelin was a Fae, yes, but Dorian was very much a mortal. Their child should have been half-Fae, half-human. That wasn’t quite the way it panned out. It seemed that the Fae blood was dominant in Alec which enabled him to take the form of another species. The prince had selected a wolf. A huge wolf with a coat as white as fresh snow. It was a spectacular party trick, though the novelty had worn off for his parents a long time ago.

“It’s not about the winning, only the rush of competing.” Alec said airily, shoving Chaol off of his bed and closing the drapes.

“If you keep on like that, you’ll end up sounding like Darrow.”

A look of disgust crashed onto Alec’s face. Alec liked Aedion Ashryver, had known him all of his life, but he hated his bratty son, Darrow. The fifteen-year old thought he was the best thing to walk the gods’ green earth. Sure, the kid had some decent family history. Darrow was Aelin’s second cousin, Alec’s third, so was linked to House Havilliard-Galathynius through marriage. He had a bastard’s claim to House Ashryver, too, but his main point of bragging was his grandfather, the great Gavriel. Seems that not much of the warrior had gotten into Darrow. Alec could put that boy on his ass with no magic required.

“If I ever get like him, I give you permission to put a very sharp arrow through me.”

“I somehow doubt that your parents would approve of me killing their eldest son.” he paused.

“I’d be too dead to care, Chaol.” the crown prince rolled his eyes. “Besides, I am so not ready to be king.”

Chaol raised an eyebrow. “Will you ever be?”

Alec gave his mentor a shrug. “Give me another twenty years and I might be halfway there.”

“A thirteen-year royal education has been wasted on your sorry ass.” Chaol smirked.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Alec grabbed a cloak from his wardrobe. “Are you coming for a run or not?”

Chaol grumbled under his breath. “I better had. Someone has to make sure you don’t get yourself assassinated, throne-worthy or not.”

“That’s the spirit.” Alec winked, leaving the King’s Hand trailing in his wake.

The dawn air was refreshingly cold on Alec’s face as he stepped through the main gate, tipping his head in acknowledgement to a bowed guard. Despite the hour, Chaol and Alec were not the only souls out of bed. Alec had come into the world in Orynth but he’d spent about half of his life growing up in Rifthold, his father’s ancestral city. Already he could hear the familiar sounds of the city beginning to quicken its pace with the sun above. Windows were being thrown open, doorsteps brushed and water from wash basins were pouring into drains. Horse-drawn carts rolled past on the way to the markets, the gentle clip of hooves echoing over the towering structure of the palace’s outer wall. The people that lived inside that wall were stirring, too. Servants bustled about with trays and buckets and barrows. His sister’s maid, an old woman named Philippa, dropped him a quick curtsey as she headed towards Isabel’s chamber, a small pot of tea on the tray. He also spotted the duo of young girls that served the king and queen, Clarys and Taryn, making their way across the courtyard with sterling trays.

The stables were alive, too. Alec paused to watch, letting Chaol catch up with his long strides. The horse master, Quinn, led two steeds from neighbouring stalls. Quinn had many hands to deal with the menial tasks, such as shoeing, but it quickly became obvious why the animals had his focus.

In one hand was the king’s war horse, a jet black stallion called Osper. Osper had never seen a battle, Dorian was a far better politician that he was a warrior, but he was still his favourite. Aelin had bought him the yearling as an anniversary gift. He was an almighty creature, bred from the purest of Asterion lines. Alec had never seen a horse so huge move with such speed. Osper had been foaled to serve Dorian. Alec had tried to ride Osper a number of times before but it felt inexplicably uncomfortable. When his father rode, it looked as if the gods had crafted horse and rider simply to be together.

The other mount was one of his mother’s horses, Soraya. Soraya was easily the most beautiful mare in the royal stables. Her smooth golden coat and thick ivory mane set her apart from the other hardy riding horses in the stalls. Soraya, however, was much more than a queen’s pet. In Terrasen, the tradition was that the bride would ride back to her marital home on the back of a horse whilst the groom led them on foot. Soraya was the horse that Aelin had ridden from Orynth to Adarlan after her wedding. Dorian walked every step of the way with the reins in his hand. That was over twenty years ago now and the old mare’s flaxen coat was speckled with white but she was no less important to the queen. Quinn treated Soraya better than any other horse in his care.

“Morning, Quinn.” Alec called, reaching over the stall to rub Soraya’s ears. The mare whinnied contentedly at his touch.

“And to you, too, prince. Nice to see you, Lord Chaol.” the horse master nodded to the Hand before turning back to Alec. “Do you need Ghost today?”

“I do. Would you saddle Aspen, aswell? I promised my sister I would take her for a ride today.”

Quinn jerked his chin towards the silver stallion, munching hay a few stables down. “Try to keep Ghost quiet today. His back right leg isn’t too hot.”

Alec frowned. “Why? He was fine the last time I rode.”

“Prince Edric took him out a few days ago. Said that he caught his knee on a jumping pole.” Alec’s face worked into a scowl as a small laugh escaped Chaol.

“The next time that Edric asks for Ghost,” Alec muttered. “Remind him that he has a perfectly good horse of his own in just the next stall.”

Quinn chuckled as he bent down to pull out a grooming kit. “You know it’s not my place to disobey a prince, Alec.”

“And it’s not his place to steal from his elder brother.”

“Borrowed, actually.” A familiar voice drawled from behind the Crown Prince. “I returned the item in question.”

Alec knew it was Edric before he even turned to look. After all, he’d had thirteen years of living with him.

The younger prince sidled over, offering a sugar cube to Soraya as he passed her by. People were always struck by Edric. He looked mostly like Dorian; fairly tall with unruly black hair but his eyes were what set him apart. His right eye was a gleaming orb of ice. The other was a chocolate brown colour. There was nothing wrong with his sight, he’d been tested enough times. It was just an odd quirk of genetics but useful. Nobody had ever confused the twins, despite them being pretty much identical. Artemis had the Ashryver irises.

“Good morning, brother,” Edric gave Alec an ominous smile. “Did you have a good night?”

Alec resisted the urge to bare his teeth at his younger sibling, even as Chaol and Quinn snickered in the background. It would only give him the satisfaction. “I had a great night, Edric, thank you for asking. You?"

The other prince looked away. “Oh, wonderful. There’s nothing quite like watching your big brother try to flirt with his lady love whilst steaming drunk.”

“Aisling?”

“Aisling,” Edric confirmed, giving his brother an attempt at a pity pat on the shoulder. “You know what? I don’t think she’s any less interested in you than she was before. So that’s something.”

“Well, I’m flattered by that awful attempt at sympathy, Ed,” Alec smirked. “But stick to what you’re good at, little brother.”

“Duly noted.” he snorted as he and Alec walked down the stable block. “Can I come for that ride with you and Iz later?”

Alec looked at him sideways. “If you’re not supposed to be studying, I don’t see why not.”

“Professor Whitshaw isn’t back from his holiday up north until next week,” Edric told him. “Much to Dad’s chagrin.”

It was hard to keep Dorian angry for a long time. Alec had been a naughty child. He’d pushed the boundaries on his father’s patience daily but he was never as bad as Edric is. This example was one of many. When Dorian had insisted that the twins study through the summer to finish their education, Edric’s anger was almost something to be admired, but nothing he said would change their father’s mind. Unfortunately, Edric was a lethal combination of Aelin’s drive and Dorian’s cunning. To stop the extra classes, Ed told his professor that his parents were giving him free use of the summer palace in Suria for two months after the solstice.

Whitshaw was gone within the day, with the king none the wiser.

Of course, Edric had been grounded as soon as Mum and Dad had found out, barred from attending the Solstice Ball and kept in his room virtually all day. They even made him take his meals in there, alone. But, as Edric pointed out to his siblings when they came to visit him, at least he was imprisoned in his room rather than in class. Dorian and Aelin had always been fairly lenient parents, anyway. After a few weeks of being trapped indoors and as soon as Edric offered them an apology (which had actually been quite heartfelt), they ungrounded him and allowed him to spend the summer study-free.

He’d never admit it, but Alec could tell his father was still a little mad at Edric. Not that he blamed him. If Alec had been the parent, Ed would have had a bit more punishment.

“I still can’t believe you did that.” Alec admitted, shaking his head a little.

“Dad still can’t believe I did that.” Edric snorted.

“Well, he’s been a little, you know,” the older brother shrugged as they stopped at Ghost’s stable. “Overwhelmed, recently. With the new baby and all.”

“What, he didn’t think he had it in him?”

“He’s forty-four, Ed, not ninety.”

“You know what I meant,” Edric said impatiently.

“It doesn’t matter. What I’m saying is that he clearly must be worried about Mum,” Alec replied sharply. “What I’m saying is that you should consider not being such a little shit for the foreseeable future. Mum and Dad have got enough to be dealing with without you adding to it.”

“Look, I’ve been a perfect little angel ever since the Whitshaw thing. Get off my back, Alexander.”

“Good. Keep it up.” Alec retorted sarcastically, reaching over the stable door to stroke Ghost’s nose.

“But you think he’s worried about Mum?” Edric asked, hints of anxiety in his tone. “You think that something’s going to go wrong? That Mum could die?”

“That’s enough. Mum will be fine.”

“I’m nearly fourteen. You don’t have to lie to me like you do to Emmett.”

“If Dad thinks that there’s something for us to worry about, he’ll tell us.”

“I don’t want to hear it from him first. I’m asking you.”

Alec glanced down the stable. Chaol and Quinn weren’t listening, heads together in deep conversation about something or the other. He gave Ghost a final pat and turned to face his little brother.

“Having a baby has never been safe. Mum had trouble with you and Artemis. She was in labour for over three days. She nearly died having Emmett. I’m not saying that anything’s going to go wrong. She had Isabel and I with no trouble at all. It’s just that,” Alec trailed off. “Just be aware that there is a risk, okay? Last week, I,” he hesitated.

“Last week, you what?” Edric looked at him apprehensively.

Alec took a deep breath in and put his hands on his brother’s shoulders. “Last week, I signed a decree saying that if anything happens to Mum, I’ll become the King of Terrasen in her place with Dad’s guidance.”

Edric’s eyes widened and Alec shook him a bit. “It’s a precaution and will likely sit and gather dust in my drawer for many decades to come.”

“It’s just in case?”

“Yeah.”

He considered, nodding slightly. “Do Isabel and Artemis know?”

Alec shook his head. “Our secret, Ed, and I want you to keep it that way for now. Do you promise?”

“I promise.”

“Thank you,” the Crown Prince sighed with relief. “Try not to worry about it too much. Just be a little mindful. It can’t be an easy thing for Mum and Dad to handle. I mean, they’re mates, so try and lay off them as much as you can.”

Edric nodded again. “Of course.”

“If you need to talk,” Alec squeezed his brother’s shoulders before letting his arms fall back to his side. “You know where I am.”

Edric grinned up at Alec. “Like I’d ever come to you for a shoulder to cry on. You couldn’t organise a piss up in a brewery, brother.”

The tension in the stable slackened in an instant and the world seemed to start spinning again. Alec could always credit his brother for that, atleast. He was a master at making the best of a situation, excellent at making people happy. It’d be a vital skill in the months to come.

Alec laughed, shoving his brother away roughly. “Chaol,” he called down the stable. “Forget that run, let’s just go to breakfast.”


End file.
